Halo: Endless Waltz
by Mr. Askanius Trick
Summary: War doesn't just move human history, it defines it. Every generation has had it's great unifying conflict that spurs innovation and slaughters warriors and innocents alike. Humanity has just survived the most colossal conflict it has ever endured, and now two of the greatest breed of soldiers in human history are ready for peace. Can they find solace, or is war their only destiny?
1. Stacking the Deck - Instigating Action

Forward: First of all, I own nothing of the Halo franchise. Also, credit for the subtitle of this fic goes to Gundam Wing from the feature film Mobile Suit Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz. Now that that is out of the way, a little PSA from your friendly neighborhood amateur author. While I've read my share of Halo literature (Ghosts of Onyx and Grasslands completely, bits and pieces of other novels, plus I've played all the games), you won't find the military jargon precision or perfect attention to detail of the entire Halo Universe that is present in the best of Halo fanfiction. I state this not as a "Come on guys, I'm not great but give me a chance!" shtick, but to relax your minds, so to speak, of such expectations. I write for characters, and for those quiet, pensive moments you find in classic cinema, moments that authors like Karen Traviss tend to leave out (and yes, I am throwing a little elbow at Traviss. She has decent mechanics and fundamentals of writing. Ya know, grammar, sentence flow, comma control, only the occasional misspelling ((which is a little embarrassing for a professional author)). But her work lacks charm and, ya know, _character_). What can I say? I'm a sucker for noire. And that's the vibe I like to play with in my work. Naturally I'll do my best to stir up some action for the Spartans. Why ignore the selling point of the series, right?

What I really want to explore in this story is a soldier's motivation for attaining peace. Why a warrior fights, and how long that personal cause of theirs can keep them going. And ultimately, what is more important: Victory, or peace?

Also, this takes place after Halo 4. Godere!

1st Movement: Stacking the Deck

Chapter 1: Instigating Actions

Part I

Our Respective Similarities

While Dr. Halsey was the only person onboard technically incarcerated, the UNSC Port Stanley still felt like a prison. It wasn't just that the Port Stanley was not a "pretty" ship by any means. The ship was lifeless. It was hard to explain. The crewmen were always nearly silent and uneasy, not afraid but suspicious of their own shadow. It's like no one on the entire ship trusted each other, aside from their estranged rescuer's inner circle and even they had their own subtler brand of paranoia constantly hanging in the air around them. Tom B292 has always had a way of understanding people. He supposed that was why he got to be the leader of Foxtrot; he just had a natural insight about others, and about human nature to a simple degree. As much as a Spartan could, anyway. But even though Tom had a natural understanding of the human condition, he couldn't figure out why he wasn't very happy.

He had just about everything he could possibly want. They were out of danger (for now), they were heading back to Earth, and they had discovered new technology that would invariably make tremendous breakthroughs for human science. But most importantly to Tom was that Lucy was talking again. It had been so long since he heard her voice he was afraid that he might forget what she sounded like. But of course, he hadn't. Even though Lucy was still getting used to speaking again and her voice was very quiet, raspy, and strained, the moment he heard her again a thousand memories of their youth rushed back to him. She would never be the same person she was when they were twelve, but that was alright. His Luce was healing.

He stared at the ceiling of his temporary cabin on the Port Stanley, a cabin that was usually reserved for Lieutenants, but the Port Stanley seemed to be a pretty understaffed ship. Probably because of the "classified" nature of its operations. _Heh, classified. Everyone onboard knows this is a black ops boat._ Maybe it was just the bad vibes of the ship that was bothering him. Wow, if Lt. Ambrose knew that he was using abstract colloquialisms like "vibes" he'd have Tom running sprints across camp on his hands for hours.

Tom was snapped out of his melancholy reverie by a beep from the com in his helmet. The helmet was currently mounted on the wall with the rest of his SPI armor. He hopped up from his bed and crossed the little cabin to his helmet. He placed the familiar armor piece on his head and answered the com.

"Tom-292," Tom said in even tone.

"The Doctor said this would be the easiest way to get a hold of you." The call signature identified the caller as UNSC Port Stanley Brig.

"What do you need," Tom responded.

"Dr. Halsey wants to see you."

_Why would she want to see me? She was never too fond of any of the IIIs._

"Tell the doctor I'm on my way. On what deck is the brig located?"

"Deck 13, sir."

"B292, out."

* * *

At first she wondered if he would even come. Why would he want to see the old bitch that nearly sent his friend over the edge? Halsey still had the black eye to show for it. But sure enough, the communications officer told her Tom-B292 was on his way. She had summoned him on a whim, a little feeling. She must be getting old fast, because she would never usually let such a thing move her to even lift a pencil. With usual Spartan promptness, Tom had arrived before Halsey had constructed exactly what she wanted to say. _Looks like we're winging it._

Tom sat down on the other side of the bullet proof glass that separated Halsey from the outside world. Even though there was no way Halsey would have had any chance of escaping even if she tried, Paragnosky was not about to show her any mercy. The old bat was going to revel in her victory. _Though I suppose if my Spartans wanted me free, they'd have me out and in control of the ship within a couple hours, even with Osman on Paragnosky's side. She wouldn't stand a chance against Blue Team._ But no, her Spartans were too loyal to the UNSC. They were soldiers, and they would follow their orders. Even if it meant leaving Mom to the wolves. It probably made it easier that she was a pretty terrible mother.

B292 had been sitting there silent for a good couple minutes now. He was so tiny compared to her Spartans, just under two meters tall and no muscle mass augmentation like the Spartan IIs. To the naked eye, he looked like any other twenty year-old man. A very fit twenty year-old man. Finally Tom's patience seemed to wear down.

"You rang?" Tom quipped. Halsey couldn't help but smile a tiny bit. While Spartans tended to banter occasionally, she had never seen a Spartan quite so…sociable as Tom. Even off duty, Spartans still spoke like they were on a mission. But not Tom. He could actually speak like a civilian without trying. Like it was natural. Well, enough stalling. She didn't have a plan to bring it up subtly, so she might as well let it out.

"You remind me of John," Halsey said. The words sounded strange coming out of her mouth, like such a statement should never be uttered. Really, it shouldn't. John-117 was one of a kind. Even still, there was something about this boy, something about him that was exceptional beyond statistical prediction just like John.

"W-what?" Tom stuttered, utterly disarmed. _Me, like Master Chief? What's this about? Has the Doctor gone off her rocker or is she playing an angle? Or maybe…no._

"You just-" she began, trying to find a way to explain the unexplainable, "You've got a special touch Tom. When you're around, things go right."

"Heh, you never read the post-op on T.O.R.P.E.D.O. did you?" That was only half a joke.

"Yes. You succeeded and survived a mission that should have impossible to even complete, much less survive. You even saved the girl while you were at it," Halsey said, intending that last bit to be a joke. But by the way Tom's fingers twitched toward forming a fist, that wasn't a smart move. Or was it? Maybe Halsey just stumbled upon Tom-B292's source of luck: the lady. She continued, "That's it, though, isn't it? The difference between you and John. John's success comes from his luck, but you have something different that pulls you through. Something…Someone that keeps you going."

"I complete my missions like any other soldier, ma'am," Tom replies tersely, not sure how he should respond to that for a second. But, as it always seems to, the right words came to him and so he continued, "I just happen to have a little extra motivation I suppose."

Dr. Halsey smiled. Despite her previous prejudice against the Spartan IIIs, she was beginning to like Tom. She supposed that her dislike of them stemmed from the simple fact that they weren't hers. Pretty unfair of her, but at her age she was allowed to be a bitter old woman every now and again, right? A bitter old woman with a lot to answer for.

"Well," Dr. Halsey said after a rather elongated awkward pause, "I suppose that's all."

"Really?" Tom asked with eyebrow raised.

Halsey snorted and retorted, "Yes boy. Now run along, go play with your G.I. Joes."

While Tom had no idea what the hell a "G.I. Joe" was, he got the message that the good doctor was done with him. He gave her a nod, stood, and turned on his heel to leave. Just as he got to the door he was stopped by Dr. Halsey's last words to him, "Take care boy. And take care of her."

* * *

She found him in the first place she looked, right where she knew he'd be. The Port Stanley was between the Earth and the Sun, bathing Tom's back in brilliant solar light as he stared out the starboard window wall of the observation deck. If there was any place on the Stanley that could be called "nice" it would be the observation deck, maybe you could even call it…

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said without moving a muscle. Lucy smiled. It wasn't a question of how he knew she was there, but how many seconds did it take till he knew she was standing there watching him. She padded lightly over to Tom's side and nearly absent mindedly tucked a lock of hair behind her right ear. Nearly being the case because she took a pause to realize how long her hair had gotten. Since surviving T.O.R.P.E.D.O. she kept it a bit longer than a customary Spartan in a jagged pixie cut, but now you could almost say her shoulder length hair nearly flowed.

As if reading her mind, and no doubt noticing her hand hesitating by her right ear, he looked down at her with a little smile and said, "I like your hair long."

Lucy tried to fight the smile that cracked onto her face but failed. She met his eyes for a second and let her smile free. It wasn't a big one, nothing was big about Lucy, not even her happiest smiles. Tom was just fine with that. In fact, he loved it. All the more reason why he chuckled when she gave him a light swat on the stomach as she looked down and away. Tom loved moments like these, where just for a second there were no wars or xenocidal alien races or children to mold into killers. Just Tom and Lucy, together and happy.

Lucy loved it too, much for the same reasons. The therapeutic effect of a couple careless seconds was amplified a million fold for Spartans. Their war pedigree could hardly handle the jubilation of free laughter. But just as their minds were about to get lost in a light hearted wonderland the moment was done. They went back to looking out the enormous window before them, but only Tom was admiring the Earth. Lucy's eyes were unfocused with contemplation. She had the strangest urge to tell Tom something, however, she didn't know why she wanted to. But despite not having a concrete reason, her compulsion got the better of her.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, nearly too quiet to be audible. But Tom's ears had been trained for years on Lucy's soft tapping and little whimpers she made in her sleep.

"About what Luce?" he said, this time fully facing her.

"When I spoke…When it started again…It should have been you," she stammered, not sure how to word it for a world of reasons. But as always, Tom understood.

"No Lucy, it's alright," he said, "I'm just glad you started speaking again at all. I've been waiting for a long time."

"Tom…" but that was all she managed to squeak out before both of their pagers issued to them by ONI for temporary use aboard the Port Stanley beeped at once. The pair of Spartan IIIs shared a glance before checking their pagers. "REPORT TO ADMIRAL PARANGOSKY AT ONCE." Tom and Lucy looked back to each other confused before sharing a decision to resign to the order. Before either moved though, Tom changed his look to the silent question, "You were saying?"

Lucy responded with her own look of, "Oh, nevermind." She then began toward the aft side lift, and Tom fell into step with her a moment later. Both of the Spartan IIIs were very wary of Parangosky, but no matter what the frightening woman had in store for them, they would face it together.

* * *

Part II

Shanghaied

"At ease," Parangosky ordered, but from her bitter tone in almost sounded like a threat. The Admiral almost snickered as she watched the battle hardened suicide soldiers before her squirm, albeit subtly and in their own Spartan way, like naughty children waiting for a punishment from their school master. She continued, "I have summoned you to offer you two an opportunity. An opportunity to continue serving humanity. ONI is launching a new Spartan generation: the Spartan IV Program. This generation is to take after the ORION Program. No child soldiers, only willing, adult volunteers. And as previous members of the Spartan program, you two have an early invitation. So, what do you say? Save humanity one more time?"

Tom hesitated. He knew he would be the one to answer vocally for the pair, but he looked to Lucy first before even thinking about answering. To the naked eye, Lucy looked stone cold and unperturbed by the offer. But to Tom, her expression told a different story: her slightly upward eyebrows conveyed mistrust, her pinch corners of her mouth and slightly narrowed nostrils showed aversion, and her eyes, which were the real kicker, were the slightest bit widened and glassy which told Tom the simple answer of "Please no," which was all Tom need to see. He nodded the slightest fraction to her, which set her eyes a bit more at ease.

"This is an optional program, correct ma'am?" Tom asked, to which Parangosky nodded stiffly in response, "In that case ma'am, we would like to decline." Parangosky's eyes caught fire and her nostrils flared with blatant anger, as she was not a woman accustomed to being refused.

"Are you really turning your back on your race Petty Officers? Scorning the very peoples you have sacrificed your lives thus far to protect? Surely you cannot be so cowardly," she seethed, growing in her indignation which every syllable.

"Admiral Parangosky, ma'am, you just said this was an optional program," Tom stated slightly defensively. He did not like the rising agitation of his superior for several reasons, one of which being that he had the continually sinking feeling that the offer to join the new task force was actually just an order in polite disguise.

"You two have some nerve to spit in the face of the people that gave you everything you have!" she barked, now slowly starting to stand behind her wide, precisely organized desk, "You were bred to serve the human race, to fight for ONI and the UNSC. What you're doing may as well be desertion, childish treason-"

Tom couldn't contain himself any further. He snapped, "Last time I checked Admiral, the war was over! Lucy and I have paid our dues, taken our hits for humanity and watched all of our friends die and burn for the sake of buying a couple extra days for Earth. Now we're going to retire and try to piece together some kind of existence that doesn't involving killing for king and country, and no black ops ring leader is going to tell me we can't. Good evening, admiral! Come on Lucy."

Lucy was presently blinking in disbelief that her partner had just exploded at the highest authority either of them had ever met as Tom grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the door. But just as Tom reached Parangosky's office door and the electric door began to slip open, the door slammed back shut and sealed with a hiss. Tom whipped around to find Parangosky standing with her hand just finishing punching the command to seal her office.

"Open that door Admiral, before I break it down," Tom growled, not totally out of nerves, especially from the lack of meds that were still being re-engineered for Lucy and him.

The admiral ignored his command and spat bitterly, "BB, activate Protocol I, two subjects."

Suddenly, a massive electrical current that would send a normal human into a coma shot through Tom and Lucy from the floor to render them unconscious. The Spartan IIIs hit the floor like sacks of cement, and Parangosky sighed as security was hailed to take the super-soldiers away. She was hoping to take them willingly so that she could use them as incentive for the third generation IIIs to follow, but she could work around it. As Parangosky watched Tom and Lucy's unconscious bodies be dragged out of her office, a small part of her subconscious that was still allowed to process any sort of idle thought wondered why and how two bred and born warriors had lost the will to fight.

* * *

Boy do I love to hate Parangosky. Don't you? Anyhows, don't expect too much more from Halsey I think, until I find a way (or reason really) to tie her back in. I'm sure there will be though, as from here on out this bad boy is going to get progressively more AU chapter by chapter. But that's what a fan fic is supposed to do, right? Anyhoodles (that's my new word. Copyrighted ((But not really)). Don't steal it. Pretty please.) I'm debating whether to have next chapter be about Katana and the rest of Blue team, or just keep following Tom and Lucy. What do you all think? As any author, feedback is appreciated whether good or bad, simple or extensive, Judeo or Christian, ect.

For those of you who have played Halo 4 (which exceeded my wildest expectations), I imagined the observation deck to look like the deck of the final cut scene.


	2. Stacking the Deck - Progression

A/N: Just as I was finishing chapter one and mentally mapping chapter two, I had an impulse to write a chapter following Team Saber. Therefore, before catching Tom and Lucy again we will be taking a look at Saber's post-Glassland state and their potential future in the UNSC.

* * *

1st Movement: Stacking the Deck

Chapter 2: Progression

Part One: Nothing to Lose But You

"So we've got a semi-circle kill zone all set in front of this portal that the doctor said would take us into something called a 'Dyson Sphere'. The doctor said it was kinda like a safe house, only it was a whole other separate dimension. Ain't that crazy?" By now Ash-G099 was getting a good response from the mix of ODSTs and Marines he was telling his story to every time he paused. After a chorus of "No way!"s and "Seriously crazy."s, et cetera, he continued, "Anyway, there we are, half circle kill zone, popping everything that moves. Linda and Mark, this friendly neighborhood marksman to my left, are having a field day with the dumb bastards. But even all of us couldn't keep 'em are range long enough. The first Covvies to get close were a pair of Hunters. Figures, right? Now we handle 'em all right at first, but we had started to run low on ammo and they start getting a few shots at us. And then…"

Suddenly Ash skidded to a halt in his fiery revelry when he realized just what part of the story he had arrived at. The beginnings of a lump tingled at his throat, but he swallowed it down quickly while the soldiers listening in started to inch toward the edges of the seats in anticipation, some literally and some figuratively. Then Ash continued, but now lacking a lot of the bright energy he spoke with before, "Then time kinda slowed down for a few seconds. Both of the Hunters fired a blast at Kelly. She was caught with lead feet, couldn't move. We all watched and thought she was done for, thought none of us were fast enough to save her. But Holly was. Spartan G003, quickest Gamma there ever was. She dove out in front of Kelly just in time to take the shot."

The room was dead silent as Ash paused again. This time the peanut gallery didn't have any catcalls or add ins. Just quiet for a fallen comrade they never even knew. Ash continued, "A couple of us were still knocked down by the concussive force, though, and that gave the Hunters an opening. Or at least that's what they thought. Will from Blue Team threw down his gun, he was out of ammo, and charged the Hunters with nothing but his bare hands. The guy was an animal! He was ducking, diving, kicking, tearing, tucking and rolling. All of us, even the Covvies, just stopped and watched. Hunter blood, or ooze, or whatever they have was everywhere 'cause he kept ripping off big chunks of 'em, fistfuls at a time. Finally he tore off a good sized piece of the one that slowed down more and it just…fell. He actually killed the damn thing hand-to-hand."

The room erupted with cheers; it even got a smile out of Olivia and Mark, who were sitting on either side of Ash on the rec room couch as he told their tale. It took a good forty seconds before Ash got the uproar to simmer down enough for his to continue the story. He continued once more, "Yeah, it was awesome. The thing is, he was all kinds of tired and beat up after that. And right when he turned around, the other Hunter put a blast in his chest. He should have been shot all the way across the room and through the next three walls, but not Will. No, he had his last say. He didn't even skid back. In fact, he took a big step right toward that other Hunter like he was gonna rip it apart too before he died on his feet. Now that's a real warrior's death if I've ever seen one. But the ceasefire couldn't last forever, and before we knew it the Covvies were pressing forward again. It wasn't long after that Lt. Ambrose orders us to go through the slipspace rupture that would take us into the Dyson Sphere. The IIs, the doc, and my team went on through, Lucy brought up the rear with Tom over her shoulders. We waited on the other side for Kurt but…He never came through. It wasn't until Tom woke up and told us what the Lieutenant's plan was that we knew what happened. Lt. Ambrose was holding the trigger for a FENRIS nuke, and he waited till we were all through and the portal closed before he blew himself and all those Covvies straight to hell on a nuclear wagon."

There was another silence for the unmet fallen once more. If there was anything the men on that ship understood, it was the bitter taste of retelling the death of a comrade. Even though Spartans were meant to be the epitome of a human war machine, every man and woman in the rec room could see the hurt show through the Spartan IIIs before them as Ash to the tale of their friends' demises. The first to break the silence was an ODST leaning against a vid hockey table to Ash's right.

"What was the Dyson Sphere like?" the older soldier asked. Actually, this man looked like he could be over three times Ash's age, maybe more. He had to be at least forty-five, with silvery gray streaks just over the ears in his once perfectly jet black hair. His piercing blue eyes only enhanced his already sharp Slavic features, and thin wrinkles were growing more and more noticeable each year shifted with every move of his face. Ash was surprised to see a man of that age still in the ODST force.

_'I wonder if that's what Tom will look like when he's that age,'_ Ash thought bemusedly.

"Ah, yes, the Sphere, also known as the Shield World. See the spot we were spat out was this-" Ash was suddenly cut off by Olivia's, Mark's, and his Port Stanley issued pagers all going off at once. All three IIIs checked their pagers to find the same message. They were to report to Parangosky at once. "Looks like that's gonna have to be a story for another time, we've got a summon from the Wicked Witch of Space."

Ash finished his jibe with a wink to the soldiers, who all got a nervous laugh out of their commanding officer's secret nickname. As the far too young warriors left the room, the ODSTs and Marines thought back to their own teenaged years and thanked their lucky stars that they had not made the cut for the Spartan program.

* * *

"Mark!" Olivia called out down the hall, although it sounded strange for her to be loud, as she was almost as unaccustomed to yelling as Lucy was.

"Yeah O?" the marksman said as he stopped and turned to face her. Olivia caught up with her former, and now future, squad mate and nibbled her lower lip for a second before continuing.

"Is it right?" she asked, "You know, doing what we're doing? Especially with Ash so…whatever he is right now."

Mark blinked, genuinely surprised by the question, before responding, "Well, of course O. We're soldiers. We just finished an assignment, now we got a new one. A big one too. Aren't you excited? I mean, we're all sad about Dante and Holly, but Ash'll be fine, just like us."

"You know it's not that simple Mark. Not for Ash," Olivia said with the slightest edge to her voice, but coming from her it cut deeper and cleaner than any energy sword could. Mark's lips pressed together from having his little self-created illusion shattered as Olivia continued, "And then Tom and Lucy turned it down to go to the reserves. I understand Lucy doing that, but why did Tom? He's an incredibly capable soldier."

"Please Olivia, do you really think Tom would go anywhere Lucy wasn't?" Mark mused, thankful for the change of focus from his bereaved leader. Mark's keen sniper eyes where exceptionally perceptive to more than just what was down his scope, and he had always been fascinated with watching Tom and Lucy. They had one of the most marvelous, nearly symbiotic relationships he had ever seen. Of course, that wasn't saying too much since as Mark had only ever known life at Camp Currahee besides the fragile memories of his burning homeworld.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Olivia said, for it took a fool not to see that Tom and Lucy had a bond beyond words, "I just hope Ash is ready, or…I don't know. Are we ready?"

"We have to be, O," Mark said softly, setting a hand on his friend's shoulder, "for ourselves, and for him. We'll be fine, I promise."

Olivia so desperately wanted to take her friends promise with absolute certainty, but faith would have to do for now.

* * *

_"Ash!"_

_ She was facing him this time. She turned around before the blasts hit. Time had slowed down again, the hunter's cannon blasts barely inching toward her._

_ "Move! There's still time, get out of the way!"_

_ She smiled a sad smile. She shook her head. She wasn't in her SPI armor, but was clad in her everyday gray training-wear. Just how she looked on any other day. The green orbs of destructive plasma were half way to their target now. He tried to move, tried to run to her, but he was frozen solid in place. All he could do was call out and watch._

_ "Please move! You can do it, just move! You can still make it!"_

_ The plasma was a meter away. Over the course of a moment her demeanor changed from melancholy content to a slow, creeping, panicking fear. Her eyes widened, her mouth parted. She reached out to him. He forced his arm out, reaching to her. He started to move now. He inched closer and closer. But not fast enough. The cannon shots were there and he was still far too many feet away. Her back began to arch and disappear at the same time as the blasts hit her, her head slowly whipping up but her eyes never left his. Her hand was still stretched out toward him._

_ "Holly!"_

_ Everything turned green._

_ The green suddenly receded and Holly was standing before him again with her hand out to him, but this was much different. She making little skips backward toward the edge of a cliff face, and he would have warned her if he didn't see the lip of a lake over the edge that was undoubtedly safely and directly below. She was dressed different too. Now she was only wearing her modest gray undergarments._

_ She was gorgeous. Most thought her shaved head was unappealing, but Ash always disagreed. The early signs of a woman's figure were gracing her incredibly well toned body. Her hazel eyes were alive and captivating, inviting him ever closer. He could feel the breeze slide freely over most of his body, save where his boxer shorts covered._

_ "C'mon Ash, hurry up! You said you'd jump with me!"_

_ "Of course, Holly. Always."_

_ He caught up, grabbed her hand, she laughed, and they jumped. Ash cackled wildly as they plummeted hand-in-hand into the icy lake water that they had escaped Camp Currahee to enjoy for the first time. This was one month to the day before she died. On her fourteenth birthday._

_ Ash broke the surface of the water and suddenly it was pouring rain. Not only that, but he was no longer swimming in crystal clear lake water. He was crawling through mud underneath electrically charged barbed wire grid. He watched Dante's boots kick through the mud, as Ash had volunteered to take up the rear. Holly had gotten through first, and was helping her squad mates up and giving them an extra boost as they began the charge cross an open field being sprayed into with blanks. Holly hauled Ash onto his feet and they began to sprint. As per usual Holly pulled ahead early. That's just how she was, always a step ahead of him. Ash was fortunate to only take one blank to the shoulder during his dash across the field, but just as he was just about to reach a barricade set up for cover at the end of the clearing, two bursts of blanks hit him right in the feet, one burst per foot. Must have been Tom that made that shot. He was the only one who could have done it besides Lt. Ambrose, but Tom was definitely the only one devious enough to think of a shot like that. Just as Ash was tumbling face first, a pair of smaller hands snatched his wrists out of the air and threw him clear over the owner's body and behind the barricade._

_ By the time Ash hit the ground he was even farther in the past. Now he was flat on his back looking up at a girl a few months older than him, she was already ten, yet much smaller. Still, she had managed to throw him over her hip with a classic Aikido throw they had just learned that evening. His competitor was kind in her victory though, and extended a hand and a smile to him. He took both, and returned a smile of his own. Even then her smiles were radiant. As she lifted him, she spoke idly, informing him of a secret just for fun._

_ "When I grow up, I wanna be as strong as a bear! Think I can do it?"_

_ The green flash returned, even more blinding than before, then dissipated into stark white. He heard her one last time, once more in her teenage voice. In her final voice._

_ "Did I do it Ash? Was I strong?"_

_ "Yes, Holly. Stronger than you could imagine. Holly I-"_

Ash woke, bolting straight up in bed, raggedly mumbling her name. A whisper from the last remnant of the dream echoed in her voice with a smile in the words, _"I know."_

Ash's mind, still delirious from the dream, tried desperately to cling to the imagined sound, but there was nothing he could do to save it. He couldn't even save her voice. Sweat drenched the young Spartan's sheets, and he didn't notice until he lied back down that his fists were clench. Ash took a deep breath, working out the final shudder from the aftershock of the dream that had haunted him every other night. He didn't bother to check the time; it was undoubtedly some indecent hour in the "morning" according the ship's operational clock. The Port Stanley was orbiting the Earth longitudinally, so the Sun was always off the port side. Still, there was a clock to dictate times for crew shifts and to give the infantry onboard a day and night cycle their bodies could make sense of.

While he doubted he would be able to sleep again, Ash tried to at least rest his eyes. He had a big day ahead of him. Parangosky said the Spartan IV augmentation process would be relatively brief since there only a couple procedures that would successfully integrate with his Spartan III augmentations. When the admiral had promised him that he would have a fireteam with Mark and Olivia definitely on the roster he couldn't have said yes fast enough. Ash had been robbed of his team before they had even graduated from their training at Currahee. He would not lose his team again now that he had a second chance. While Ash was still rather inexperienced, despite the amazing things he had already seen in his short career thus far, he was savvy enough to know that few soldiers ever got a second chance at anything. And he would not fail. Never again.

* * *

Part Two: New Age Blues

"Some of the old hands here know what you're in for. The rest of you: you're due an education."

Commander Sarah Palmer's introductory speech was lacking the ingratiating optimism of a typical academy initiation speech, and that was just fine with Fred-104. The same sentiment seemed to be shared by the female Spartan IIs that flanked him on either side. While Linda had suggested taking up the end three seats closest to an emergency exit near the rear of the auditorium (Fred still was skeptic on why the UNSC Infinity needed an auditorium besides that it was so big it had room abound for it), but Fred had belayed her suggestion, taking the three of them to seats in the center of the right section of the bisected audience. When Linda made motion to protest, he gave her a simply, slightly cheeky answer, "Morale."

At the very least they were noticed. Before Commander Palmer took the podium Fred's sensitive Spartan ears picked up plenty of excited chatter about the three veritable giants in the crowd. The soldiers may not know their names yet, but there was no doubt they were some of the legendary Spartan IIs. Fred scarcely paid attention to Palmer's speech, and instead was observing their fellow Spartan IV candidates. There had to be at least 500 men and women in the cavernous auditorium. From his seated position there was only so much he could distinguish, even being the largest human in the room. Before him was a menagerie of people of all colors, sizes, and ages. Halsey would have balked at the genetic imperfection she demanded for her Spartan II candidates. The four figures that stood out the most of what he could see were four figures in the very front row. Four figures that must have been about the same size as himself and his two counterparts.

_'Spartans. But who? Can't remember who's even alive anymore. Well, we'll just have to socialize after briefing. Heh, Linda will be thrilled.'_ As if on cue Sarah Palmer finished her mercifully short speech a moment later and ordered the prospects to proceed to medical examination preceding their augmentations. The crowd rose sporadically and began shuffling toward the exits. Fred was quite nearly perturbed by the inefficient chaos around him. It was so…civilian how they all moved. The uneven steps, accidental bump-ins occasionally requiring an "excuse me, sorry", the inefficient non-linear routes his colleagues used to maneuver nearly made him dizzy. Fred almost chastised himself for being overwhelmed until he remembered he hadn't been in this big of a crowd his entire life unless it was a battlefield.

Before standing, Fred tapped Kelly and Linda's knee of either side of him, signaling silently to wait a minute. Then he pointed up to the four Spartans at the front of the auditorium that now towered above their peers after standing up. The female Spartans raised their eyebrows comically simultaneously at the sight of possible follow IIs.

"Well, are we staying by the punch bowl all night, or are you gonna ask one of them to dance?" Kelly quipped. Fred smirked lightly and stood, his companions following. The four other Spartans also seemed irritated at the slow shuffling manner their new colleges moved in as they waited at the very back of the crowd heading for the rear doors. Blue team waited at the end of their row toward the center for their unfamiliar brothers and sister to reach them. It did not take long before the other group spotted Blue team and gave a short wave, which Fred returned, and made it a point to reach their compatriots. At last, the meeting could commence as the unknown four stepped over the last couple rows in front of Blue's.

"Matilda-110," the woman said, slight Cajun accent prevailing over years of separation from her birth family. Not skipping a beat, she extending her hand to Linda, who was nearest her, for the three men's large forms to Matilda's right prevented her from reaching Fred or Kelly, "We were Black team during the war. And my boys here are Victor-101, Charles-003, and Ulysses-125."

"Linda-058," Linda said politely, waiting for Fred to take over. Linda was in a particularly detached, Zen-trance-like mood today.

"I'm Fred-104, and this is Kelly-087," Fred said.

"I can speak for myself, Freddy, dear," Kelly mused as she reached over him tauntingly to shake hands with the Black team men first, "Nice to meet you. We're Blue team. Or I guess we _were_ Blue team."

"Ah, easy to forget it's over, isn't it?" Matilda commented kindly in her smooth creole. Then she shrugged an offered a winning smile seldom seen among such hardened soldiers, "Well, as they say; on to the next adventure, _non_?"

* * *

A/N: Sorry if there wasn't much for Blue team in here. Just wanted to give them a starting point as we get the ball rolling. Also, they made a convenient vehicle to keep time moving as well. As for Black team, I'm not going to be cannon precise on their characters because there's little out there with them and I really don't want to go through the trouble of tracking down and reading the comic that features them. Sorry I'm such a lazy ass ! Anyways, next chapter may be shorter, as it will be only one "part". But worry not, I intend it to be a fun one. I also plan on writing chapter 4 simultaneously, so stay tuned for that hopefully-soon-to-be double update.


	3. Stacking the Deck - In Interim

A/N: I've just realized that I said this story takes place after Halo 4. While the bulk of it does/will, these first three chapters actually take place between Glasslands and Halo 4. If anyone really cares, I'll edit the mistake, but if not I can live with an author's note typo. Also, Tom and Lucy fans do not despair. While they are not making an appearance in this chapter, Chapter 4 will have plenty of your favorite Spartan IIIs. But still make sure to read this chapter, it has some important updates of the state of Sabre and Blue Team!

1st Movement: Stacking the Deck

Chapter 3: In Interim

Part One: Child's Play

13:12, 11/12/2554. Match 106: Domino versus Apex, In Progress

Fred held up his hand, telling Kelly to remain in position for now. Meanwhile, Apex Team kept a steady barrage of suppressing fire down on their enemies. Spartan Viktor Barna broke away from his current cover to seek refuge behind the crest of a hill a few meters ahead, flinging his last frag grenade as he went. For a man of fifty-seven, the ex-ODST of Slavic descent could keep pace with any other Spartan IV. Well, one of the new Spartans. Either way, the three IIs were happy to have him aboard, especially since his grenade sent one of their adversaries sprawling half a meter from his previous cover. Easy pickings for Linda.

"That's Domino-2, down for the count."

"Nice shooting Apex-2. Apex-3, get to that platform at 2 o'clock. Apex-4, advance to Apex-5's position. Once you're in position, flash green and we move on the base. Apex-3, hold ten seconds before taking the flag home. Go."

Fred really was impressed by Domino. Until now, all 5 Dominos had stayed alive, and while Apex got through their defense and obtained Domino's flag, Domino managed to get in between Domino and their own base, and had undoubtedly picked up the Apex flag by now. Sure enough, just as Fred left his cover he caught a glimpse of a banner with his team's color disappearing behind a boulder. Through the peppering gun fire he heard the whine of a Mongoose accelerating. They were going for it while Fred's team made the final push to finish the war game. Fred grinning as he forced a Domino back into Apex's base with a couple quick trigger squeezes of his Battle Rifle. Domino was valiant, that was certain. Valiant, but still as foolhardy and green as their young leader.

* * *

Mark blinked off the bead of sweat that finally managed to run off his brow and into the corner of his eye. Not good, Apex as advancing.

"Rich, Franz, move it! Mark, hit the two coming around underneath you. Damn it, if O was still up, I'd have _her_ run the flag."

Mark winced a little as he prepared for his targets to emerge from their cover behind the angular structure before him. Ash's voice was dripping with fury and something akin to panic now. Their team leader had taken a turn for the worse after Domino's second flag capture, going from anxious bravado to paranoid rage. Never mind that now, time to try to hit two Spartan IVs with one bullet.

But instead of letting off a well-practiced trigger squeeze, Mark let out an astonished yelp. Mark's arms stung like they had just been electrocuted as he jumped back and watched his miraculously damaged rifle tumble down the ten meter ledge. The Apex sniper had shot the barrel of his sniper rifle. Now the weapon lay on the ground, its barrel blown in half, the point on either half where the shot had his splayed out sickly and smoking. Mark sat on his backside powerless as he watched their situation go from bad to worse as Rich and Franz's Mongoose flew by…with Rich Taylor limp at the controls. The bike smacked pathetically into the base of the cliff behind him and Franz scarcely avoided being taken out of commission by Apex's sniper with a lucky dive, half propelled by the crash. Franz scrambled next to Mark and activated his external speaker.

"We're screwed Mark, there's no way I can get through this sniper!" Franz growled. Defeat was the worst when you knew it was coming and there was nothing you could do about it. Mark snorted humorlessly to himself, thankful that he never really had to be the suicide soldier he was originally trained to be as a Spartan III. There was no way he could stand to live that last couple hours of his life feeling like this.

"Try it anyway," Mark barked through his own external speaker, "I'm going after those two." With that, he took off toward his previous targets with only his M6H sidearm. By now the Apex soldiers had reached the Domino base, one already charging through the front door, the others preparing to follow. As Mark leveled his pistol he saw Apex's final member leaping high into the air, easily clearing the top of Apex's base and dropping into a roll before pouncing toward the opening in Domino base's roof. Mark would have shaken his head in disappointment if he wasn't unloading on the Apex's men by the door. _'Sorry Ash. We never had a chance against Blue Team.'_

* * *

His Assault Rifle nearly cracked as it slammed against the wall. Ash's adversary was still off balance though; he had been expecting bullets, not a rifle bash. A frustration fueled roundhouse to his opponent's right hand disarmed the Apex leader, leaving the fireteam leaders to duke it out hand to hand. They only had seconds before Apex's speedster scored the final capture of the war game, so Ash had to finish this fast. Ash covered his right ear to take an elbow to the head, and flipping a quick side kick into his opponent's left calf to prevent the older IV's kick from even starting.

Then Ash ended the bout with a typical uncouth flourish. He took a left uppercut square in the gut. As his armored body left the ground from the bone shattering punch, Ash fired three rounds from the M6H he had slipped out in lieu of blocking his foe's punch. The stun rounds buried themselves in both of Apex-1's shoulders, stopping Apex-1's fatal knife lunge cold, and the third hit the older man right in the center of the helmet, locking up his armor which registered him as a Kill just before Kelly landed in the middle of Apex's base, ending the match. Fred couldn't help but laugh as his frozen body clunked face first on the floor.

* * *

The kick of the Battle Rifle was therapeutic, every trigger squeeze sending a ripple through his body that fought to calm his frustration wracked nerves. Ash reloaded in a heartbeat with practice perfected efficiency and continued to pelt the same target he had been using for the last three clips, too preoccupied to summon a new one. While he continued to flay his overly abused body outline target, the stall next to his became occupied. He sighed nearly inaudibly; he had been enjoying being alone on the range. Ash reloaded once more, and this time he paused to hit the button to his right, replacing his target with a fresh one. He leveled his rifle and began abusing his new victim.

This time, however, his bullet spread was much wider, for every time he fired, whoever was next to him shot at the exact same time. He fired again, flinching visibly this time at the eerily synchronized shot from the next stall over to the right. He paused both to try to break the simultaneous shot timing, and to check his companion's accuracy. All perfect headshots. He wouldn't be surprised if some bullets managed to pass right through holes from the previous shots.

Irritated beyond his limit, he took aim at the target to his right and fired. Once again the marksman to his right fired at the exact same time. This shot was followed by a deafening, piercing _TING_, and then a high clatter a moment later. The son of a bitch shot one of his bullets out of the air.

"The aorta," a very familiar voice called from the stall, "Your favorite."

Ash was tired of being bested today. He slammed his borrowed rifle back onto the rack bellow the stall opening and stormed over to Mark's stall. Thankfully his friend and teammate he also stowed his own weapon because Ash disregarded all range safety, grabbed Mark by the collar of his off-duty greys, and slammed him down onto the ledge at the front of the range stall.

"Trying to make a point?" he barked in Mark's nearly unfazed face, only grimacing subtly at the spray of spit that spewed out in Ash's fury.

"It's alright O, I've got him," Mark called beyond Ash, ignoring the fireteam leader's inquisition. Ash whipped his head around to see Olivia standing at the entrance to the stall, tense and ready to fly to Mark's aide. Ash hoisted Mark back up and shoved him toward Olivia. The stealth operator braced Mark as the sharpshooter steadied himself on the edges of the stall, still seemingly calm and centered.

"Get out!" Ash barked even sharper than before, bristling at his friends like a corner dog.

"You're losing your friggin' head Ash," Mark countered, not moving a centimeter, Olivia remaining nervously behind him, "It was a war game. A simulation, for God's sake."

"They humiliated me!" Ash didn't even bother trying to cover his rage, his inner torment at today's failure boiling to the surface. "First those Crimson Team nobodies, and now Fred the fucking Blue Team relic!"

"Exactly, Ash, _Blue Team_," Mark said, taking a tentative step forward. He was growing a tad bit impatient with his "leader's" tantrum. "Those guys are more seasoned than the rest of the IVs put together. Hell, we're lucky we got a kill in. Most teams don't."

Ash surged forward but Mark held his ground sternly. The two men stood nearly nose to nose, one fuming, the other stone cold still.

"We had them," Ash seethed, "Every round, we had them. I called his every move. We served with him, I studied every declassified file on him, I know his moves. The old bastard's outdated. We had 'em and they still broke right through." Ash looked around Mark to Olivia, eyes stabbing at her. "That old fuck Barna even made you look like a chump twice."

Olivia winced under Ash's berating jab, and that pushed Mark past his last nerve. Mark grabbed Ash's collar with one fist and brought Ash's face back to his. This sparked Ash's already raging nerves. Ash reclaimed his two fisted grip on Mark's collar and tried to throw his compatriot again. This time Mark grounded himself and yanked Ash downward by the back of his too long hair with his unoccupied hand. Ash's head and shoulders were dragged back and down so that he had to look up at Mark from the sniper's chest height.

His first and oldest friend looked down at him with solemn disgust. "What the hell happened to you?"

Mark shoved Ash away to the front of the stall hard. Ash stumbled and barely caught himself on the stall shelf; chest down where Mark's back was just a minute prior. Before he knew what he was doing Ash flung himself back at Mark, but a nose shattering impact stopped him cold and decked him. Mark had always had a great right cross. Ash stared at the bland ceiling of the range as footsteps clanked away from him toward the exit.

"Get a hold of yourself. I'm not gonna die out in the field 'cause you've got a fucking screw loose."

"Ash-" The second voice, raspy and female, was cut off by a door slamming closed.

Ash didn't make even the slightest effort to move. He felt hot blood dribble into the corner of his mouth, tasting sharp and iron-y. Ash's head swam from the impact of a fist to his face and a hard floor to the back of his head, the walls of the stall spinning lazily in doubles before him. The rage that burned so fiercely just a moment ago had transformed to wracking pulse of self-loathing as the stall walls began to melt into the ceiling. The pulse filled him and emptied him every time it came and went. Full. Nothing. Full. Nothing.

He swore he wouldn't lose again. He promised. He promised _her_ he wouldn't. And then she was here again. She was crystal clear while the rest of the world remained blurry. She had grown into the strong and gorgeous woman he always imagined she'd be. He tried to gurgle out an apology past his own blood, but she step a finger lightly on his lips and smiled soothingly. He grinned back, the blood smeared across his teeth was pathetically comical. She giggled like she used to when only he was around. She made him swear not to tell anyone she actually giggled. He swore gladly. He loved being the only one who knew. The only one to hear it. The only one who ever would. She suddenly stood nimbly and flitted out of the stall, beckoning him impishly.

"Holly, wait," he sputtered as he clumsily stumbled to his feet, red droplets spackling the floor at his feet. He had to use the stall wall to stead himself. But by the time he got his head and half his body creakily around the corner, she was gone again.

"Not fast enough," he whispered, misery rushing back just as quickly as she had driven it out, "Never fast enough."

Ash crumpled to the floor, sweet darkness claiming him momentarily from his endless self-torment.

* * *

"Mark, we can't just leave him!" Olivia hissed, only half struggling to release her wrist from his grip as he dragged her away from Infinity's firing range toward the lifts.

"We can and we are, O. I'm tired of this shit," he clipped back dully, hitting the up button for the lift, "He can carry himself back to his bunk."

"How can you say that?" she protested as he managed to drag her into the elevator, which was now dramatically less roomy than it was before they had received their newest set of augmentations. The former adolescent suicide soldiers were now nearly full grown Spartans, dwarfing their former stature by nearly half a meter.

"Because I'm not his God damn caretaker O, and neither are you," Mark bit back, finally facing her. O nearly gasped at the artic frigidness of his gaze. While Ash's rage roared like fire, Mark's was frozen and chilling. And this was the coldest Olivia had ever seen Mark.

"He's not right, Mark! He's in trouble!" Olivia grasped at Mark's arms, now desperate to get some reaction out of him besides determined stoniness.

"Then he shouldn't have said yes," Mark returned, breaking Olivia's last hope. She collapsed against him in helpless frustration, forehead to his sternum.

"What do we do? There are cameras in the range. They saw everything."

"Do what we did last time, and the time before; tell Lasky I started it. My temper is at a record height these days you know." His sarcastic deadpan only elicited a growling dry sob against his chest. Olivia's silent plea gained her no sympathy. He wouldn't allow her to be sucked into Ash's weakness. He gave her elbows just enough support to make sure she stayed stable in her misery against his chest, but not a single semblance of comfort came from the gesture. The lift opened. The walk back to Domino's bunkhouse was silent. Their other two teammate, former ODSTs, were already asleep. It was 0300 by the ship's clock. As Mark sat on his bunk and stripped to his undershirt and boxers, Olivia made one last appeal to his back from her bunk.

"Why do you close up like that? Why did you give up?"

The sniper hesitated for a full two seconds before giving her one last backward glance for the night. His left eye betrayed his icy demeanor.

"We tried O. And we failed. It isn't our job to clean him up. And it ain't fair for him to try to make it our job. It's not our fault he couldn't hold it together."

"He isn't doing it on purpose. Mark please, he shouldn't be alone."

"Then why don't you go back, O." He lied down and pulled his sheet over his artificially broadened shoulders. "Nobody's stopping you. Nobody's been stopping you for the last two years. Leave."

She didn't.

* * *

Part 2: What You See Is What You Don't Get

August 1, 2557

The lift ride up to the observation deck was longer than Kelly remembered. Each beep signifying they had passed another floor seemed minutes apart rather than a few seconds. A sudden throat clear from Fred made Kelly jump. She gave him a look that was more wide-eyed and accusing than she meant, and he nodded at her hand. She suddenly became aware that she was tapping her index finger profusely against the handrail she had been leaning on.

"Sorry," she muttered, barely audible through the thick silence.

The three former Spartan IIs avoided eye contact with each other. They were each pursuing their own trains of thought that needn't be shared with the others. Kelly was trying to prepare herself to have a question answered that she had been wondering about for years. By now, it was the kind of question that she had become accustomed to not knowing the answer. That little uncertainty had become a part of her reality, an ironic fact of her existence. And in five more decks, it would be answered, and a little part of her world would be destroyed. The funny thing was that she already technically knew the answer, but some things you just have to see to believe.

The lift door opened. It wouldn't have mattered if Kelly had been the slowest Spartan, Fred and Linda would have never had a chance of reaching John before her. Kelly wasn't aware of just how fast she reached him, but her dizzy head didn't catch up with her body until she had latched onto him in the most un-Spartan like display of reckless affection she had ever committed. It felt like she was hugging granite by how tense her touch made John. While he only relaxed a little, he still set a pair of tentative hands on Kelly's upper back.

"Hello Kelly", his deep, gravelly bass voice reverberated through her entire body. She released him, finally aware of how brash her embrace was, and took a reluctant small step back.

"You're…" she didn't want to say alive. "Here."

"Good to see you alive," Fred said it for her, in full beaming earnest. Kelly quite nearly blushed when she thought of how long Fred and Linda might have been standing there, much less that they had watched the whole display regardless of how close they were. Still, she didn't even consider looking back at them. She could guess anyway. Fred was grinning and Linda had a Zen induced relaxed and neutral face. It was John that she needed to study.

He looked older now. Older than he should with how much cryo time he had had over the last couple decades. His eyes were flanked by raking crow's feet, his cheeks now drooped ever so slightly, and there was not a point on his face that wasn't deeply creased. This one soldier alone had a seen an army's worth of war. The silence was growing pregnant. Fred, Kelly, and Linda had been deployed onto Requiem, and then debriefed on everything after the New Phoenix Incident, so there were no questions to be asked. Well, except for one.

"Are you with us now?" Kelly said just a bit too fast, her voice unusually high and cutting against the silence.

"No."

"Why?" she hadn't meant to fire back so quickly. She hoped she didn't sound as desperate to everyone else as she thought.

"I've been given an assignment." Kelly marveled at how serenely still John was. He was smooth in his stillness, like an undisturbed pond.

"Classified?" Fred mused in attempts to break Kelly's quickly mounting interrogation.

"Of course," John returned, his tired features showing their first sign of amusement. Just a touch of warmth and a twitch of uplift, but it was enough.

"Well, try to keep the mess after this one to a minimum," Fred continued before Kelly could start again, "We're getting a little tired of cleaning up after you."

"No promises," John said.

"What say you head down to the mess with us, soldier? They synthesize a pretty mean roasted chicken breast down there."

"Not now, sorry. And don't you dare make that an order, Lieutenant," John said, his humor strained. Kelly couldn't help but feel a little stung. While she stood grappling with herself to keep from protesting, Fred seemed to understand, or at least accept, their old friend's wish for solitude.

"Very well. As you were, Master Chief," Fred said kindly, giving his friend a hearty handshake. Linda bowed lightly, which John also returned. As Fred and Linda turned back toward the lift, Kelly remained rooted. She stared into John's eyes, search for answers, which made John uncomfortable and forced him to look away.

"Goodbye Kelly," he said without room for argument, and turned to once more stare out the huge observation deck window out into space.

"Goodbye John." Kelly's eyes did not once leave John as she walked a tad bit too slowly to the lift. Fred had to hold it for her. John's eyes never left the vacuum of space.

* * *

A/N: Soooo there ya go. We check back in with Sabre and Blue, plus John's first appearance. And like I said above, for all of you Tom and Lucy fans, never fear, they'll be back in force next chapter! This chapter actually turned out way longer than I planned. I originally intended it to only be the war game, but then the rest just poured out over the course of a few days. I couldn't just leave it as a lame bit of filler. Anyhowzin, be sure to review so I know what's what, and stay tuned, Chapter 4 is already well in the works!

Side Note: I wanted to do a post-game score sheet and a leader board, but fanfic's doc manager doesn't like lots of spaces :P


End file.
